


Dreams

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Scully is haunted by her dreams. Written for a photo prompt of a couple playing with their toddler on a beach. Angsty.





	Dreams

The dream is always the same. She’s walking along the beach. The evening sun is spilling into the ocean, golden waves washing to the shore. Insects buzz, seagulls bob on the white caps, men and their sons cast lines from the sand banks. The sand is cool under her feet as she leaves wet footprints behind her. Ahead, a small child is squealing in delight as his parents swing him between them. She watches them a while, water lapping at her ankles. And when they turn around to head back they stop in front of her and she sees that the child is William. And he is happy without her.  
“Another one, Scully?” Mulder asks, pulling her into his side.  
She sniffs into his chest. “I’m sorry, Mulder. I didn’t mean to wake you.”  
“You didn’t. It’s too damned hot to sleep,” he kisses her gently and gets up. “Water?”  
“Please.”  
She flops an arm above her, grateful for the cool of the pillow. They’ve been in this town for days, the heat pinning them down, melting their plans along with the bitumen.  
“Wanna tell me about it, Scully?” He sits on the bed in just his boxers, a sweat sheen highlighting the muscles in his back.  
The water is tepid but her throat stings so she drinks gratefully. The mattress is hard and her skin feels tender from fatigue and guilt. “No,” she says.  
“It might help.”  
She scoots forward and hangs her hands around his neck. He is hot and real and she feels an urgent need for something tangible. She presses kisses along his collar bone, kneels up and pulls off her vest, squashing her breasts to his back and humming into his nape. He sighs and stands up.  
“You don’t want this, Scully.” His voice is gravelled with concern.  
She slams her hands into the mattress. “You don’t fucking know what I want, Mulder.” But there’s an edge to her voice because she knows that he’s right. Humiliation burns and she stalks to the bathroom, splashing water over her red face and wondering how deep grief can line a face.  
He lets her sulk and when she’s done, there’s a cup of chamomile tea waiting for her. He’s lying flat on his back on the bed and steepling his hands on his stomach.  
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Scully. We’re both dealing with this in our own way but at some point we’re going to have to stop running and we’re going to have start talking.”  
She laughs then. “You told me once that I made you a whole person. Do you remember?”  
He rolls onto his side. “Of course. I was never sure if you did though. That fucking bee.”  
The bed sinks under her weight and she traces the hairs on his chest. “I feel like half a person. Like I’ve been cut adrift. And it’s not because of you. I need you here with me, Mulder. It’s…”  
“William?”  
A tear slips down her cheek. “I dream about him every night.”  
“What do you dream?”  
“That he’s happy.”  
He strokes her hair and nods. “You did the right thing, Scully.”  
“So when do I stop hating myself for it.” His thumb under her chin is soft and she spills her tears over it. He lets her. “Remember we used to say that dreams are the answers to questions we haven’t figured out how to ask. If William is happy then I think your answer is the best one you can receive. The dreams might hurt but if you didn’t have them, you’d hurt more.”  
The fan above ticks and whirs and lulls her to sleep.  
She’s walking along the beach. The evening sun is spilling into the ocean, golden waves washing to the shore. Insects buzz, seagulls bob on the white caps, men and their sons cast lines from the sand banks. The sand is cool under her feet as she leaves wet footprints behind her. Ahead, a small child is squealing in delight as his parents swing him between them. She watches them a while, water lapping at her ankles. And when they turn around to head back they stop in front of her and she sees that the child is William. And he is happy without her. She lifts her hand to wave. He smiles up at her and gurgles out a laugh.


End file.
